Before Tina could say anything else, Bette slammed her lips against hers. They stumbled back against the other wall. Tina moaned at the contact and jumped up into Bette’s arms, wrapping her legs around her waist.

“I love you so much,” Bette sobbed, “please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you.”

“I thought I was gonna lose you out there,” Tina whimpered laying her head on Bette’s shoulder.

“Please forgive me Tina,” Bette said.

“Only on two conditions,” Tina said with a sad smile.

“Anything,” Bette said.

“One, you never, EVER, drink again,” Tina said.

“Done,” Bette said letting Tina slowly down onto the floor.

“And two,” Tina said grabbing Bette’s hand and guiding her into the bedroom, “will you be the mother of our second child?”

Bette’s only response was to cry. Tina pulled her by the arm into a tight hug and slowly walked back to lay down on the bed with Bette on top.

Their wet bodies instantly soaked the sheets, but neither one of them cared. The only thing that mattered at the moment were Bette and Tina Porter-Kennard.

After all the trouble with the adoption agency, all the trouble with Max and refusing to adopt his child, all the trouble with the inability to move to New York because they were under investigation for Jenny’s death, all the trouble three years later with the appearance of Jenny’s phone in a hidden corner in the side of the house. It was all forgotten.

Those were petty problems that held no importance. All that mattered was love. Jenny’s case had been closed. Max had been a good father to his daughter Layla, and Shane and Molly were good mothers. They both still had jobs waiting in New York. They had the unconditional love of their daughter, and now they were ready to conceive another.

Everything was reeling back together. Reeling slowly into place. And it was all sealed with love.

They showed that love together. There on their water soaked bed, their naked bodies moving together in a slow sensual motion. Their fingers deep inside of each other.

Bette pushed her fingers up with every passionate thrust, her free hand wrapped around Tina’s head, her face buried in the crook of Tina’s neck.

Tina moaned, digging the nails of her free hand into Bette’s shoulder as her other hand pushed up into Bette as the brunette moved down.

They grinded to the rhythm of rain outside. With every pat they moved and moaned. Whispering sweet promises of the future. Whispering confessions of love. Whispering each other’s names.

Then with a loud boom of thunder and blinding flash of lightening they both fell apart in each other’s arms. Their bodies shook and trembled as the love poured out of them. Tears spilled out of their eyes along with long moans of pleasurable release. A release that was never fully satisfied by anyone else.

Not Candace Jewel. Not Helena Peabody. Not a random girl from New York. Not Henry Young. Not Nadia the overeager student. Not crazy Brenda. And not Jodi Lerner.

They both lay there on the bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms, looking out their glass window.

The rain had been pounding mercilessly against the windows. It made a hard pitter-patter sound, then slid down the glass leaving a trail of wetness. But now the rain had calmed. The storm had passed.

Now the rain hit the glass tenderly, like the loving kiss of a lover. They were sweet butterfly kisses in an array of passion. Just like the sweet kisses Bette placed all over Tina’s face as she stared out the window, lost in the everlasting rain.